


The Delivery Girl

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GoGo was a bike courier. The last stop on her route was an indie cafe called "The Howling Dude", where Honey Lemon worked as a barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Delivery Girl

The café was the last stop for the day. Both because it was the last building on the most efficient route, and because it was situated on the precipice of two very different sides of San Fransokyo. Another block and she’d have to start watching the alleys, looking behind her every two blocks or so. (GoGo had no gun—not even an illegal Saturday night special—but she could pedal with the best of them.)

She’d never been to the place before. There was a sign, but it was set just outside the door, the pagoda roof covering it in shade. She could just make out the details—it was a male figure, sitting on a chair (or was it a toilet?), his face arched up into the air. The name: “The Howling Dude.” Inside was no less interesting.

Mismatched furniture crafted by many different hands, in many different styles. A blackboard, where drink names and their creators were written in bright, colourful chalk. The soothing sounds of a band GoGo had never heard before, filtering in through a jury-rigged sound system of Frankenstein philosophy, vastly improving the quality of a song recorded with the best equipment almost-perpetually broke musicians could rent for a few hours.

The courier looked back down at the box she was carrying in her hand, the details of the delivery slip clearly printed out. This was the place, now all she had to do was find out who “Honey Lemon” was in the tide pool of people.

The barista was waving at her. She was blonde, incredibly tall, had huge pink glasses and an even bigger grin. Even from this distance, GoGo could see her nametag, printed out in sparkly, pink gel pen, in loopy, loose cursive: “Honey Lemon.”

No doubt, if her name had contained small letter I’s, they would have been dotted with hearts.

There was no fanfare, just a polite hello and the box carefully set on the counter. The courier pulled out a pen, but the barista already had her own pen—a novelty featuring a plastic moulded puppy. “Sign here.” In the same loopy, loose cursive, except smaller and in black, Honey Lemon signed her name.

GoGo was about to turn around and head out the door when the barista pulled out a cookie wrapped in colourful Japanese paper. “A tip!” Honey said, “If you’re lactose intolerant or are on a diet, I totally have snacks for that, too!”

The courier was none of those things. Though stunned by the curveball, she nonetheless said thanks and took a polite bite of the treat. She started chewing. “Hmm. It’s good.”

“Made it myself! All natural ingredients, fresh all day, any day!” Honey Lemon went back to work, taking the package off the counter and storing it under the counter. A customer had come back for more.

GoGo decided it was good a time as any to leave.

* * *

A new development was Honey Lemon sitting on a table, her apron off, the customary tip/snack on the seat across her. The off-duty barista had a cup of peppermint tea, in a handcrafted mug completely unique from its brethren.

She waved. “I got off early today! Want to sit down and chat?”

No more deliveries, still light out. GoGo shrugged, set the package on the table, and decided, why not? The brownie was delicious as usual, and the conversation was good.

“You really like being a barista, don’t you?” The courier said in between slow, relaxed bites.

“Absolutely love it!” Honey brightened up considerably—not that she wasn’t radiating happiness before. “The sights, the smells, and especially the food! I can’t tell you how much I love baking and drink-making, putting all of these ingredients together into something so much more!” She nodded dreamily. “Though, my real passion is in chemistry.”

GoGo nodded and pondered this interesting development. She decided she wasn’t really that surprised; it made a lot of logical sense. The courier chewed on, waiting to see if Honey had any more to say.

She did. “Oh, I’d kill for a proper laboratory, but I’m just stuck with a kitchen—a rental, too, can you believe they actually do that? Anyway, it’s tough working on my San Fransokyo tech demo entry, but the payoff will be so worth it!”

The courier straightened up. “You’re planning to go to San Fransokyo tech?”

“Yep! Big dreams for a barista, I know, but, hey, if you don’t aim high, why bother?”

“I’m actually working on my own project, too.”

“No way! Really?”

GoGo nodded. “Working for the parts. Not that bad; I love bike riding anyway.”

Conversation drifted to other topics. They both decided time spent talking about their projects wasn’t going to help anyone.

* * *

She wasn’t supposed to peek into the packages—there were laws against that. But then again, someone had also forgotten to tape the box up, another infraction. What was one more? She pulled the flaps open, and exposed the contents to the light.

The courier had the box sealed and ready to deliver in record time shortly afterward.

She didn’t know much about chemicals or chemistry, but she knew enough that when the names started becoming unpronounceable, they were either involved in something illegal or a proper chemistry lab. Most definitely out of place in a small, indie café. Maybe they were just raw forms of food supplements in the café’s goods, but GoGo’s job wasn’t to research.

The package was dropped off as usual, without any hint or betrayal that the courier had ever looked in.

* * *

“Look, I don’t care what these things are—you could be cooking up drugs or an adult version of a science project—but I am not having them in my café, alright?” The Howling Dude’s owner said, “What if someone opens them up by accident? What if they spill all over the food? What if someone uses them in the drinks, not knowing what they are?”

The Latina took the tirade in silence. Her boxes were stacked up high beside her, and outside of the building. GoGo stepped off her bike, walking the rest of the way with the package still in the rear basket. She had a feeling she wasn’t dropping anything off today.

“You’re free for the rest of the day! No pay! Now get those boxes out of here! I don’t care where, just not here!” The owner went back inside.

Honey Lemon pulled out her phone and took a picture of the tower. Then, she plunked her rump down on the sidewalk right next to ih, legs bent, pumps on the ground, and knees above her head. She took a depressing selfie of herself with her stuff.

“Hey.” GoGo said, her bike still in her hands.

“Oh, hello GoGo, don’t worry, I’ll still sign for it!” The barista said, looking up with a forced smile. She began to stand up before the courier held her hand out. The Latina slumped back down. “You wouldn’t happen to know any storage places that go for cheap, do you? And preferably take on spontaneous, new customers right away.” She pulled out her phone again.

“I’ve got a unit. You want to borrow some space?”

Honey Lemon rocketed off the sidewalk, beaming once more. The barista stepped closer to GoGo, her arms in front of her, just _this_ close to grabbing the smaller woman’s hands and dancing a jig. “Oh, if you’ll please let me, that would be so, so, so appreciated! I promise, I’ll pay you back! Whatever you want! Oh, I mean, not everything but you get my point, right?” She realized she was uncomfortably close and backed off with a sheepish grin.

GoGo just smiled. Then, she pondered. What did she want out of Honey Lemon? “You free tomorrow night?” She nodded. “I know a place, stop there for dinner sometimes. Good food. Decent prices.”

The barista laughed. “Oh, please, whatever they serve, I can cook something up that will be ten times better at a fraction of the cost! I mean, this is still technically buying you dinner first, right?” Her smile shattered into a small frown of horrific realization. “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like a date or that I’m trying to—I mean, it’s not a date, is it?”

The courier just smiled. “I’ve got the key and the directions to the place. I’ll help you move the boxes.”

Honey Lemon recovered quickly, tried to relax her tense shoulders. “And I’ll call a cab to get us there!”

Together they sat on the sidewalk and waited. The barista decided she needed to take a picture of them, with the tower of boxes behind them.

They both smiled just a little bit bigger.


End file.
